


My Undine Love

by thattrashwriterhannah



Category: Buzzfeed - Fandom, Buzzfeed Boldly (Web Series), Ruining History (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, First Kiss, Flirting, Meet-Cute, Mermaids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 17:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thattrashwriterhannah/pseuds/thattrashwriterhannah
Summary: As if the thought summons the sound, a slow, melodic hum reaches Joyce’s ears, not from any of the buildings on land, but from a small outcropping of jagged rocks rising from the water just off the coast, waves cresting and crashing in a pale, misty spray against their face.A Joyce/Selorm Mermaid!AU





	My Undine Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure I was going to be able to write anything this weekend, then this happened. I blame it entirely on two things; (1) [the Anne Bonny episode of Ruining History with Joyce and Selorm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ulWkFs-OGM) [which is arguably one of the best episodes of RH but I digress] and (2) Selorm's frequent singing on her insta story. 
> 
> Yes, the title is a pun. No, I really _couldn't_ help myself. 
> 
> If you like this fic, be sure to leave it a like and a comment. 
> 
> If you are Joyce and/or Selorm, or know Joyce and/or Selorm, this is a shippy fic. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.

The water ripples dark and inky under the light of the gibbous moon. The faint orange glow of kerosene street lamps and the dull buzz of music and laughter from the late night taverns are a hazy blanket in the distance, the shoreline a scant two hundred yards away.

Ribbons of seaweed tickle Joyce’s tentacles as she swims, the water a pleasantly biting cold of late autumn on the cusp of winter. One particularly determined blade of kelp tangles itself around one of Joyce’s suckers, and she yanks it from its stipe to free herself once more. Long, deft fingers pinch the gas bladder until the small pocket ruptures with a _pop_ that’s far more satisfying when the kelp’s been left to the sun and open air to dry, but provides an idle sort of amusement nonetheless.

A sudden chorus of boisterous laughter from the nearby quay steals Joyce’s attention from the kelp. She doesn’t pause to isolate the source of the noise. She simply lets out a lungful of air and sinks down into the relative safety of the water until it covers the top of her head. She’s not meant to be so close to land when people are still up and about, but the bustling excitement of life on land has always caught Joyce’s fancy more than it should.

After a moment passes, Joyce hesitantly raises her head above the ocean’s gently lapping waves. Water rolls in rivulets down the length of her skin, tickling like the fingertips of a careful lover, or a slow air caught in the breeze.

As if the thought summons the sound, a slow, melodic _hum_ reaches Joyce’s ears, not from any of the buildings on land, but from a small outcropping of jagged rocks rising from the water just off the coast, waves cresting and crashing in a pale, misty spray against their face.

Curious, Joyce inches closer, siphoning water into the tubular cavity at the base of her tentacles and forcing it out again, the momentum of the jet propelling her through the current, ever closer to the sound. She’s less than a dozen feet away when the noise becomes intelligible, and Joyce is able to recognize it as one of the most beautiful singing voices she’s ever heard.

It’s raspy in quality, smokey and molten like the whiskey from a sailor’s flask lost at sea. The undulating vibrato rises to beautiful trebles and falls to a deep, graceful contralto. Joyce is still for a moment as she takes it all in, the calm of the night, the light of the stars, and the natural rhythm of the sea keeping tempo.

A sharp, plaintive note at the height of the refrain finally pushes Joyce to investigate closer. Coming to the far side of the outcropping, she cautiously rounds it, using her palms against the rough face of the rocks to pull herself along.

On the other side, hidden from view of the mainland, sits a girl.

She’s thin and waifish, her diminutive stature obvious even as she’s seated. The light of the moon shines bright off the high points of her face, the tip of her nose, the apples of her cheeks, the strong, square cut of her jaw and chin. Her hair falls to her waist, done in regal, sea green twists, pinned back with a barrett made of a polished quahog shell, the deep purple a striking contrast.

What catches Joyce’s breath in her throat most, however, is the woman’s scaly, iridescent tail. The striping reminds Joyce of a mackerel, erratic black lines squiggled across vivid green, with traces of silvers and purples and blues along the underbelly. Her tail forks out in a thick, near-perfect right angle, feathered along the inside edge. Every drop of moonlight reflects back in colour-shifting light, and Joyce wonders if her scales would be sharp or smooth to touch.

Joyce would watch her sing forever if she could, but the same lack of impulse control that drove her so close to shore drives her to speak now.

“You’ve got a beautiful voice,” Joyce offers, and flinches as the mermaid gasps and raises a hand to clutch at her chest. “Sorry,” she adds. “Didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

“Then what the hell are you doing sneaking up on me?” the mermaid asks. The same raspy quality in her singing voice translates to the way she speaks. Too late, she curls in on herself, trying to hide her tail from Joyce’s view, so Joyce sets her at ease by lifting two of her tentacles from the water and curling them in an approximation of a wave.

“I didn’t think mermaids were supposed to sing this far inland,” Joyce says. “You know, on account of the whole _causing-shipwrecks-and-making-mortals-throw-themselves-to-their-doom_ deal.”

The mermaid crosses her arms over her chest and frowns. “If some idiot mortal wants to fling himself off a cliff because he can’t discipline himself around beautiful things, I don’t see how that’s my problem,” she says with a huff.

Joyce chuckles and nods, a response that seems to put the other woman at ease. “Alright,” Joyce says. “Fair enough. It’s probably good riddance, honestly.”

“Exactly,” she agrees. Relaxing her shoulders and returning her palms to the flat of the rock upon which she sits, the mermaid tilts her head. “I could say the same thing about you, you know. I know your kind likes to stay coastal, but this is probably closer to shore than you’re supposed to be.”

“I guess we’re both rebels,” Joyce says, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

The mermaid smiles back. “Hell yeah,” she agrees. “I’m Selorm, by the way.”

Selorm extends a hand, and Joyce takes it as an invitation to swim in closer. “Joyce,” she provides.

Selorm nods. “Well, Joyce, it’s nice to meet you,” she says.  

“You’re damn right it is,” Joyce replies with a cocky laugh, and Selorm throws her head back to chuckle brightly, a beautiful sound juxtaposed with the waves crashing against the rocks. Joyce brings her forearms out of the water to brace them to Selorm’s right, close enough to brush her upper arm against Selorm’s tail. It scratches, but in a way that’s scintillating instead of abrasive.

“Big talk from someone who opened with _you’ve got a beautiful voice_ ," Selorm teases.

Joyce’s heart flutters in her chest. “We can both have the privilege here,” she defends.

Selorm smirks. “Pleasure to meet you, pleasure to meet me?”

“Exactly,” Joyce confirms.

Selorm’s smirk changes to a smile. “Yeah, I guess do I feel pretty pleased right now,” she says.

Emboldened by Selorm’s easy smile and playful teasing, Joyce can’t help but to be upfront. “Are you flirting with me, Selorm?” she asks, finger trailing subtly along Selorm’s scales.

Selorm leans sideways, into Joyce’s touch. “What can I say?” she whispers, returning the favour by wiping away a stray bead of water clinging to Joyce’s hairline with her thumb, fingers brushing her short, tight curls. “I guess I just don’t know how to discipline myself around beautiful things.”

The line is so smooth Joyce is lost for a rejoinder long enough to keep the ball gripped firmly in Selorm’s upper hand. She keeps it when she leans closer still and presses a quick, wet kiss to Joyce’s lips.

Joyce can only watch, mouth open in quiet delight and the taste of salt teasing the tip of her tongue, as Selorm leverages herself up from the rock and dips back into the water.

“What do you say we go somewhere a little further offshore and I show you what this mouth can really do?” She winks, then adds, “musically, of course,” and then she’s off, thrashing her tail and diving below the water.

She surfaces a few dozen feet away, just close enough that Joyce can see the mischief twinkle in her eyes as she turns to look back over her shoulder, and a thrill runs up Joyce’s spine.

“Okay, you wanna go, let’s go.”

She whispers it under her breath, then breathes out the last of her air and sinks underwater, hot on Selorm’s tail.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my [tumblr](https://thattrashwriterhannah.tumblr.com/).


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